


glitter and gold

by bouncycastle



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abstract, Body snatching, F/F, Supernatural - Freeform, goddesses and lesbians, not the show, nsfw alluded to but nothing explicit for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:47:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27487516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bouncycastle/pseuds/bouncycastle
Summary: I met her at my wife's funeral. The day felt gray and dreary. I think it was raining, because the ground was muddy and dirty, but I can’t remember if it was before or during. Either way, I picked her as the one to talk to because she was the only person I didn't recognize. Everyone else was a relative met before at family dinners only or a friend of my late wife.She was leaning on a tree, hands stuck into her black mantle pockets. She looked at me, solemn and quiet.„I loved her“, I told her when I got to her.„I did, too“, came her answer and she looked at me, solemn and quiet, still.





	glitter and gold

I met her at my wife's funeral. The day felt gray and dreary. I think it was raining, because the ground was muddy and dirty, but I can’t remember if it was before or during. Either way, I picked her as the one to talk to because she was the only person I didn't recognize. Everyone else was a relative met before at family dinners only or a friend of my late wife.

She was leaning on a tree, hands stuck into her black mantle pockets. She looked at me, solemn and quiet.  
„I loved her“, I told her when I got to her.  
„I did, too“, came her answer and she looked at me, solemn and quiet, still. I couldn’t feel a tugging in my heart as I turned back to look at the people who had come to say goodbye to my wife. When I turned around again, I thought she would have vanished into thin air, but she was still there, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Still she looked up at me, stubborn perhaps, her sad blue eyes more brave than that. That was when I realized I had somehow considered her almost an apex predator up until that point. As if she was the one who had murdered my wife (my ears twitched as I heard wheels screeching on the wet asphalt near the cemetery entrance), as if it was her loving that had taken her away. But her tear and the determination to prove she was not evil on her rosy face made me realize that there was nothing more tender than love in this world and that this woman, despite the implications, had done nothing more scandalous than loving my wife.  
She must have known I was the alive wife and her shivering lips showed me that behind her calm there was a storm.  
„I need to go“, she said, softly, voice shaking, finally. Everyone else had left. How much time passed while I was looking at her?

„Yes“, I answered, softly, voice quiet. „With me.“

We left the cemetery, and I watched her study the names on the gravestones as intensely as I studied her face. There was a spark inside her that I had also seen in my wife when we had first met, a spark that had slowly faded away with age and time. Except it seemed much brighter and much more eager to stay alive. I knew, instinctively, if I let her into my life, this woman would devour me whole. That this woman was in the truest sense of the word from another world. I grabbed her hand as we exited through the gate and she did not resist, but also didn't grab it back.

„What is your name?” she asked me, sitting on my bed, still in her skin-tight black dress from the funeral. It really must've been raining, the dress was damp.  
„You know my name.“  
She looked to the ground, but not to avoid eye contact, and smiled widely like a little girl caught in the act but at the same time seeming incredibly mature.

„Sam. Right? Sam?“,  
„Yeah. What is _your_ name?“  
She looked back up, this time making eye contact. I hadn't noticed that I'd sat down directly next to her, thighs touching. She opened her mouth, slightly, and exhaled, as if the words were stuck in her throat.

„You don't have to tell me“, I figured, feeling hurt.

„I'm sorry about your wife, Sam.“ It was the first time she sounded sincerely sad and not vaguely devoid of any real emotion.  
„I'm sorry about your lover.“ Her eyes widened in hurt shock and her mouth opened again as she exhaled and clasped her hands in front of her chest. I immediately felt sorry, but I was only human, too, and after all, my wife had just died. I could already see her darting away, out of my reach, but for some reason I desperately wanted to know more about the woman who had loved my wife.   
„I'm sorry, listen...“, I started, but she interrupted me, giggling quietly.  
„You're not. You're not, Sam. You're not Sam and we both know it.“ I stared at her. „I'm Lisa“, she added quickly before I could respond.

„I – nice to meet you, Lisa.“

She sighed, now, laying one of her hands down in my lap. I took it between both of mine and squeezed.  
„Nice to meet you too, Sam.“  
„Would you like to stay for coffee?“  
„Yes.“  
I checked the clock and looked out of the window.  
„You can have the couch, Lisa.“  
„Thank you.“  
  
It was dark outside and raining terribly now. I wouldn't let her walk around in this weather or in the dark. Besides, if she had a car, we would have left it at the cemetery as we had taken mine on the ride back here. If anything happened to her tonight, I would not be able to forgive myself. If anything happened tomorrow, after she left my door, I would not care anymore, or so I told myself.

Lisa didn't let go of my hand for another minute or so and so we sat around in silence. I kept squeezing rhythmically. She hummed, very, very quietly, a tune I did not recognize. 

„Lisa“, I said. „Lisa.“ And with that, she stopped, opened her eyes again and let go of my hand. I got up and went into my kitchen without looking behind if she followed. I tapped the counter in the same tune she had hummed and only then she came, sniffling a little bit. I didn't look at her face as I didn't want to catch her crying. „Could I have a cup of tea, instead?“, she asked, quietly, standing directly behind me. „Of course,“ I said. „Pick a flavor.“

She picked something fruity and I set up the boiler. I watched her watch the steam rise and made some actual coffee for myself, and eventually we settled at the kitchen table. She sat down opposite of me, her dress creasing slightly. We engaged in only superficial conversation while the tea was steeping and the coffee was setting, until she smiled in the way only grieving people do and looked at me.  
  
„Don't cry, Sam.“ It hit me like a brick and I touched my cheek only to notice it was indeed wet with tears. She reached over the table and wiped them away, not breaking eye contact. I stared into her (beautiful, like the ocean) blue eyes. I felt like I glimpsed a slight of regret in them, but I couldn't grip it right. It almost seemed like her face was full of molecular sparkle. Her whole presence seemed to make the room glow.  
„She was wonderful, Lisa.“  
„I know, and I am sorry.“ Lisa wasn't from this world, she wasn't from this world.  
„And she was my wife.“ Lisa nodded understandingly, biting her lip.  
„I'm sorry.“  
  
We didn't say anything after that for a long while.  
  
„You must have questions, Sam“, she said eventually and nipped at the cup. I didn't understand what she meant.

„Questions?“  
„Yes.“ Pause. „About her … loving.“

„Her loving.“  
„Her loving me.“  
„Well, did she love you?“  
„Did she?“, she asked me instead, with a detached look on her face, and nipping her tea again.  
„Lisa.“ I frowned.  
„Excuse me.“ Pause. „She talked about-“

„I asked who she loved.“  
She stared at me, wide eyed, again.  
„I...“, she gasped.   
It was when I realized her whole ploy was to get me to answer the question, really.  
„Love is tender, Lisa.“ I said, taking the hot tea cup out of her hand and setting it on the table, grabbing both of her hands, then. „She could have loved both of us-“

„She wanted to name your daughter Lisa.“   
She interrupted me, and it felt like a punch to the gut. My cheeks went hot, and I felt a flame grow inside me that made me want to grab her and throw her out of the window, the woman who my wife had loved more than me. All I could do was squeeze her hands more tightly, until she gasped.  
„Sam, please, you're hurting me-“ I stopped immediately and let go of her hands.  
„She loved us both, didn't she?“   
That's when Lisa broke down in tears and that's when I realized I couldn't remember my wife's name.  
„She didn't, Sam. She loved me.“   
I nodded. Lisa cried harder.   
„I'm so, so sorry Sam, for what I am doing.“  
  
I looked around at the pictures on the wall of my wife and me, our wedding, and various other special occasions. When I looked back at Lisa, I had forgotten the faces on them.  
„What was her name?“, I asked, pleadingly.  
Lisa cupped her face in her hands and did not answer me. I realized how frail she was and let my eyes trail over the curves of her body. I was young.  
I got up and walked over to her side of the table.  
„Li...Lisa...“ Her name felt far away, heavy, like it was only on the tip of my tongue now. She mouthed something before she threw herself into my embrace and my heart started beating faster and faster. I noticed how pretty she was, again, and I felt like the stars surrounded me in a heavy dust.  
„You're... taking my memories... aren't you?“   
I blinked and almost missed her shake her head.  
„How did you get into my house, Lisa?“  
She squeezed tightly into me, but from the way her body vibrated she wasn't crying anymore. I was young, and I had nothing – barely graduated from college, why did I own a house? - so I let my hands trail around her back. She looked up at me, smiling sadly. Why was she sad? Why did she look so betrayed?

As my hands reached lower, she nodded in silent consent and I picked her up, her hands wrapped around me, and I threw her onto my bed. I knew nothing anymore, except that she was beautiful, but as I heard her moaning and felt her shiver under me, I saw the face of a woman I used to know.  
I held her down with one hand on her wrists and with my legs straddling her waist but I didn't give either of us the time to properly undress. All I wanted was her, now. I bit her shoulders, half-way covered by a dress that looked more suitable to mourning than to what we were doing. „You're a goddess, you know that?“, I breathed into her ear, realization dawning onto me, but she only moaned louder in response.  
We both gasped, eventually, and I rolled off her. I looked at her, still shuddering, and told her I loved her before I fell asleep, could not even wait for a reply.  
  
When I woke up, I didn't know where I was. The woman next to me smelled like sex and had apparently been awake the whole night, but it was still dark outside. We were both naked. I didn't know her, but I felt betrayed for some reason I couldn't quite grasp. I knew it was her doing, though – I knew, I knew it must have been her, because we were the only people left on earth now. I stared at her, and asked in silence: _who am I?_   
She grabbed my hand and let me onto a balcony, still naked, into the night.

„Sam“, she said quietly. I couldn’t place who Sam was.

„It's time, John“ She looked up at the night sky and I did the same. The stars were bright, and they were many. It felt like time was stopping around me. The cars were frozen, and I didn't feel the breeze of the wind anymore.  
  
„I didn't take your memories. There was nothing to take. But you know that, now. You were lost, go home. You're just an unlucky spirit, Sam, darling... I liked you – and – and – you were right. You were lucky I am who I am. I'm guiding you back.“  
  
I remembered her soft touch, once more, and I realized there was nothing for me. All I had was a funeral, a woman I took home in her own car to her own house, and the sex with her. Nothing keeping me in this world, not a wife, not even the affair I had created to justify her _real_ wife's existence. Just a lost spirit... a lost spirit...

Sam let go of her life, and the woman who went by the name of Lisa lowered her to the ground, softly. She dissolved into an abundance of small, golden particles that steadily streamed up into the night sky as time began working as intended again around her. She went inside, feeling terrible about having deceived her, and put back on her clothing, before she took down all the pictures of Sam and her dead wife, who had loved her more than him, neither of them to be remembered by anyone but her – _the young lady who had simply moved in a few weeks ago and started working at a local library, sometimes giving history lessons to students who needed them, and was an exceptional babysitter._  
  



End file.
